Snapshots
by Honeybadger
Summary: Snapshots of Remus Lupin's life. Some are happy others sad. How things affect him and how he affects others. Two chapters so far, I am the dark is Remus's reaction to the Potter's deaths and What's it like being a cat about Mcgonagall and Remus's brother.
1. I am the dark

Here's a little fic that dredged it's way up into my mind. It's Remus in a muggle bar on the night after James and Lilly's deaths. Anything you recognise is JK's and I make no money from this. 'arry is a very odd character, but he's mine so please don't steal him. You should be able to think up your own. He is also no relation to the Potter family. Other people are called Harry too you know. It's a little depressing, but hey you try to write comedy into something like this. It's not so easy is it. Well that's the pleasantries over with now on with the fic.  
  
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The bar was dank and rancid and the clientele weren't much better. It was a great mercy that it was so poorly lit. Everyone in here kept to themselves so no one really noticed the hunched figure in on of the darker corners. His clothes were patched and frayed with long wear. Dark rings hung beneath red rimmed, bloodshot eyes. Most people, if that's what they were, in here, had an air of solitude and gloom, but this man exuded it with a force. He looked dead to the world, as if his eyes saw beyond this dingy bar to another place that held his rapt attention. Though this may have been a relief for many, the man seemed desolate and depressed. No one really noticed. No one ever did in here. Half a glass of the barman's liquor was enough to make anyone despondent and the stranger nursed a mug of some odd liquid. His head slumped and he ran his fingers through greying hair. All together, this man had the signs of one who has experienced far too much. But then so had many, it seemed, in this place. The figure's head fell father till it rested on the table top, disgusting as it was. He gave a short moan of pain and loss then collapsed inwards. The barman, who wasn't an unreasonable man, noticed the man's implosion. He had seen it before, and less out of humanity than avoiding death on the premises, he approached.  
  
"'Ere son. Ar' you al'right." The man looked up at him then raised his head. It left the table with a sticky ripping noise. He stared at the barman with utmost surprise. The barman thought it prudent to continue, "Come on sit up naw, there's a lad." Up close the stranger seemed much younger than he had first seemed, even with the salt-and-pepper hair.  
  
The man's eyes widened again then he rubbed them as if to clear some bit of dust or dirt. It was then that he began to speak in a slow, measured, perfectly reasonable tone. "Since you seem so concerned I am not alright neither am I your son or a lad. Tonight is the worst night of my life, no I tell a lie. Next Thursday will be the worst night of my life, but so far this takes the biscuit." He sounded slightly scornful and very depressed by the end. He even sniffed half way through.  
  
"'Ere, 'ow many you had mister?" asked the barman. He wasn't used to his customers being so coherent. Especially after a glass of homebrew. This man was starting to worry him. He didn't want any trouble finding its way here.  
  
"This," the stranger said proudly, "is my first. And I haven't touched a drop." He upturned the mug all over the table. "I was never the one who got drunk. Always the one who stayed sober. Don't drink and derive." He muttered then laughed at an old, half forgotten joke.  
  
"Right mister, you ain't touched a drop." The barman began wiping the table with a rag that may once have been a cloth.  
  
"What's your name?" the stranger asked, eyes bleary.  
  
"I'm 'arold, but you can call me 'arry." This was the closest thing the barman had had to a conversation for years. Unfortunately, this sent the man on a downward spiral. "Pleased to meet you 'arry. Their son was called Harry." The man gave a small, disgruntled snort. "Now what's going to happen to him? And what can I do? What could I have done."  
  
Even 'arry had enough people skills to see this man needed help. And though he was probably the least qualified person around, he was also the only person around. "'ay mister, who's they?" he hazarded praying this man wasn't a psychopath.  
  
"They, were two of my best friends. The best friends you could wish for. Better friends than I deserved." The man's eyes went misty with long past memories.  
  
"Now why're you sayin that? Friends is a two way thing. You must'a deserved 'em or tel' me why not." 'arry was warming to his subject. He found he quite liked talking to this man. He seemed so in need of it.  
  
"I didn't, don't deserve anything. It's all my fault." His head began to droop and his eyes close shut. Then his head snapped up again, "Never once did I deserve any of it. Not me. I was the wrong one. There was something wrong with me. Never should have even met them!" he smashed his fist down onto the table raising protesting murmurs from the other drinkers. Then he collapsed back onto the tabletop racked with sobs.  
  
"Now mister," 'arry was getting in deeper than he thought he could manage, but he'd gone this far. "Don't be like that." He tried a reassuring pat on the back.  
  
The stranger sat bolt upright again, his eyes wild. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. But no that's no good, no." he turned to 'arry. "They're all gone you know. Just me left." He gave a half-hearted laugh. "Just me." He stopped laughing and looked pensive. "It's quite funny if you think about it."  
  
'arry knew he was getting into some very strange areas, but couldn't back out. Then he made a mistake. "So, mister wha' happened to all'a 'em? Whered'e go?"  
  
The man smiled briefly, "You don't understand, do you?" 'arry had to shake his head. The man leaned forward and whispered, "They are all dead 'arry. All of them. One's not dead in the same way, but he's dead to me. Dead to everyone soon. He killed them, you know. Betrayed them, to him. Then he killed Pete. I'm surprised he didn't kill me too."  
  
'arry sat in shocked silence. There seemed nothing to say except, "Let me ge' you 'nother drink."  
  
The man shook his head slowly. "I don't need a drink. I didn't come in here to get drunk. I told myself I did, but I didn't. I was always the responsible one. Good old reliable Remus." He sighed. "Remus? That your name mister?" 'arry asked quietly. The man nodded.  
  
"Good old reliable Remus." he repeated. "Like I was some staunch old dog who always be there. Some dog, but I wasn't a dog 'arry. Oh no. Once a month I was the leader of the pack. They needed me. They never would have survived a minuet out there. A dog, domesticated, stupid. A deer, easy prey. And a rat, what chance would they have had?"  
  
"I don't know, but damned small one by the way you're goin on." 'arry murmured. He'd almost completely lost the plot.  
  
Remus, however was just getting into the swing of things, "I never told them, you know. Not once. They had their pride, but they wouldn't have lasted a minuet with any other wolf. I knew them and they helped me more than I can say. Then I let them down." Tears began to well up in Remus's eyes. "I should have been there. I should have protected them. Did they think it was me?" dismay passed across his face. "No, they couldn't have, but it would explain..." he trailed off into silence.  
  
"Now you sure you ain't had no drink this evening, cos you sound damned strange talkin' about animals and gubbins."  
  
"I assure you I have not touched a drop." Remus held up his hands then folded them in his lap. "And 'arry I think you'll find it's morning now."  
  
'arry checked his watch and found that the stranger was right. "How'd you know that?" he asked trying to turn the talk away from dead friends and crazy animals.  
  
Remus chucked and pulled up his sleeves revealing no watch. "Call it a gift. A slight compensation you might say."  
  
"A com'whatchamacallit' for what?" asked 'arry intrigued.  
  
"My condition." Remus answered simply.  
  
'arry backed away slightly. The only conditions he knew were catching. "Er, what kinda' condition?"  
  
"Oh you needn't worry. I don't bite." Remus replied then looked troubled, "Well not at the moment anyway. Nope. Next Thursday still lies ahead." He gave a slight shiver and pulled on his coat. "It has been a pleasure talking to you Mr 'arry. We must do this again sometime." 'arry looked mystified and Remus shrugged, "It seemed appropriate." He said with a smile.  
  
"I don't know if I can let'cha go ou' ther' Mr Remus. It's dark out and there be thugs roamin'." He didn't want to have wasted all this time with this man for nothing. There was still a chance he might buy another drink. All the other customers had drifted of into the night already.  
  
Remus turned from the door and said, "Goodnight 'arry. I suggest you shut up for the day. I also recommend you think how incredibly lucky you have been. I mean you've got a... nice bar and there are things out there that won't ever trouble you." He looked down at his feet briefly then smiled. "An you don't have to worry about me out there in the night because you see..." here he leant back towards 'arry and whispered, "you see I am the dark." And with that Remus Lupin sailed out of 'arry's bar and his life forever.  
  
'arry just stood for a while in the centre of his bar. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but he had a fair idea. And in a strange way he was glad that he could have helped, if only a little. He picked up his ragtag dishcloth and made a last sweep over the tables. He locked the front door, switched off the light and made a far less impressive exit through the back door.  
  
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And that, as they say is that. I probably won't expand on this fic, but there is always a chance.  
  
Reviews are always welcome.  
  
And have a nice day. 


	2. What's it like being a cat?

Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk when the news came.  
  
"One of your students has just woken up in the hospital wing."  
  
She put down the transfiguration homework she'd been marking and sailed down the corridors. The new deputy head had only arrived at Hogwarts this year. She had been educated here but now she was back as a Professor. She wondered whether any of her teachers had had to deal with problems like this. She paused outside the door. She was almost afraid to go in because there, lying in one of the beds would be a monster. Professor McGonagall was not an evil woman, but she still suffered prejudices. She had pleaded with the headmaster to reconsider about letting the boy in. "What good would it do?" she had asked. But the Head had overruled her. Then when the boy was sorted into her own house she had panicked. She'd tried everything to avoid him, but now she had to go in and see 'it'.  
  
"I want you to go and see him when he gets back. He'll be very shaken up and in need of a friendly face." Though the face had smiled those bright blue eyes had looked at her and known she feared the boy. Known, but still forced her to go.  
  
How could he have taken it so easily? Calmly allowed a werewolf to walk among the children? But then she was not Dumbledor. She had had to fill his shoes in so many ways. Transfigurations teacher, head of Gryffindor house, deputy head of the school. She still felt that she could never outshine his shadow.  
  
And now it was time to go in. A rap on the door. An answering call. The door swinging open to reveal rows of perfect white beds. The smell of a hospital.  
  
"He's through here. I set up a curtain so no one would see him."  
  
The worried expression on the matron's face. The sound of shoes on linoleum. The light streaming through the high windows.  
  
"He's in quite a state, but I've patched him up as best I can."  
  
The jangle and swish of the green curtain being drawn back.  
  
"I'll leave you with him then."  
  
The receding tap of the matron's shoes. The bed covered in books. The pale figure in it. The taste of fear.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Hello Professor."  
  
"How are you feeling Remus?"  
  
"Not very well Professor. But I'm sure I'll be better soon."  
  
Fear.  
  
"Good."  
  
The rustle of papers. The creak as she sits on the chair. Fear.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Fear.  
  
"My homework. I've got a lot to catch up on."  
  
Surprise.  
  
"But you're ill."  
  
"Yes, the matron says I've caught bronchitis and I broke a few bones. It... it was worse than usual. But if I want to come to school" breaking off into coughs, "I've got to do the work."  
  
Then her perception changed. The light seemed all the brighter. And in this new light, she saw not a monster, but a sad, frightened boy. A boy who wants an education and a chance. He'd been through more than she had in his eleven years.  
  
"I'm sorry Remus" McGonagall said quietly.  
  
"Why?" Remus asked.  
  
"Because I've been afraid. I've avoided you for weeks when you needed my help."  
  
"Professor," he paused, "Thank you. Not many would admit that. I understand."  
  
McGonagall could almost have cried seeing him sit there saying "I understand." It made it so much worse.  
  
"I could give you extra time on your homework. Maybe talk to the other teachers?"  
  
"No thank you. I don't want that kind of help. I want to earn my place at this school just the same as everybody else."  
  
She saw the look of shame on his face at being thought incapable. He obviously had doubts about his own ability.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said again.  
  
"I can manage my condition Professor. You've heard of the phrase "You've got to cruel to be kind" well the harder the work is the harder I'll try." He put down one lot of parchment onto another pile. McGonagall saw his eyes welling up with tears.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked distressed.  
  
"That phrase has a lot of meaning for me. Once someone saved my life through their cruelty. My brother Romulus was four years older than me. He was eight and I was four when we were attacked by the werewolf." Remus sniffed, but it turned into a hacking cough.  
  
"We both survived, but were both... infected. It was almost more than a month before we were let out of St. Mungo's. In that time, our parents had built a shed for our transformations. It was checked by the werewolf capture bureau and everything. We were taken home and on that night we were locked in. I was too little to really understand. I'd only been through it once before, but that was under supervision at St. Mungo's.  
  
"The worst part is that I can remember everything that happened. We both transformed and one thing the werewolf capture bureau had forgotten to mention to our parents was that werewolves should not be put in together. They blamed it on a mix up in paper work, that they thought there was only me.  
  
"Anyway Romulus broke my legs in the fight. Being considerably older than I was he was also much stronger. Too strong in fact to be held by the shed. He broke out and I saw him run out across the fields in to the wood behind our house. But they were waiting for him. There was one crack of red light and I saw him fall. He was silhouetted against the light of the moon and seemed to collapse so slowly. It might be odd to someone else but I was terribly sad. Or at least I felt what a wolf would feel if a pack mate was killed. He'd broken my legs and so there was nothing I could do but lie on the floor and howl. Did you know that they don't give you a funeral if you die as a werewolf? He hadn't meant to save my life, but he had. The same night he lost his own."  
  
The Professor looked at Remus struggling not to cry. She got up and hugged him. She wasn't exactly the maternal type, but she couldn't just sit there.  
  
"Shhhh. Don't worry." She crooned. "You're safe."  
  
"I... I've never told any one that story before." Remus sobbed.  
  
McGonagall conjured a handkerchief and gave it to him. She sat down on the end of the bed and said, "I'm sorry about your brother."  
  
"Thank you," Remus said wiping his eyes. "I'm fine now." the handkerchief vanished in a puff of green smoke.  
  
McGonagall picked up one of the sheets of paper. "This is from the lesson you missed yesterday."  
  
"One of my dorm mates, James, leant it to me. But his handwriting's awful."  
  
"Yes I can see. You don't think it would be too unfair if I were to fill you in on what we did, considering you weren't there." she said hoping she wouldn't offend him.  
  
"If you have the time that would be very... helpful." Remus smiled.  
  
"Well I did some fancy magic at the beginning. Then we got on with turning thimbles into cups. You have to factor in the size. Otherwise, you end up with a cup the size of... well a thimble. But first I'll show you the transfiguration I did at the start. A private performance."  
  
Then she turned herself into a cat.  
  
This did not elicit the response from Remus she expected. Instead, he nodded sagely.  
  
"Ah. I can do that too. Just wait till the next full moon."  
  
McGonagall turned herself back. She laughed and Remus joined in. Then he said, "What's it like being a cat?" 


End file.
